


Modern Warfare

by pasiphile



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Disc Rim, F/F, I REGRET NOTHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And we’re supposed to sit inside its head?"</p><p>"Yes, corporal. You connect your mind with it and then it does what you want it to do, basically."</p><p>Polly knocked against the metal leg of the thing. It went <em>boing</em> and a bit fell off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Warfare

**Author's Note:**

> The lovely art that inspired this can be found here: http://konidraws.tumblr.com/post/56168920700/pasiphile-and-i-were-talking-monstrous-regiment

"Right," Polly said. She stared up.

"Okay." She blinked a few times. Nope, still there.

"Yes."

Mal elbowed her in the ribs. “Perks," she hissed. “Don’t go librarian on me."

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I really shouldn’t be surprised, should I?" She frowned. “Wait. Librarian?"

"Never mind." Mal turned back to the slightly nervous-looking private. “And we’re supposed to sit inside its head?"

"Yes, corporal. You connect your mind with it and then it does what you want it to do, basically."

Polly knocked against the metal leg of the thing. It went  _boing_ and a bit fell off.

"And it has to have two pilots?" Mal asked.

"Yes, corp. The connection is too much to bear for just one pilot. As we found out the hard way."

Polly turned. “What do you mean,  _too much to bear_?" she asked sharply. “What happened?"

The private started to look even more uncomfortable. “Erm. It might be best if you don’t know."

"Alright," Mal said brightly. “Excuse us for a moment." She grabbed Polly’s elbow and dragged her to a private spot. 

"You know we can’t say no," Polly said before Mal could open her mouth.

"Polly,  _they’re trying to kill us_. Or possibly even worse."

"What’s wo- no, don’t answer that." Polly rubbed her forehead. “It’s a direct order, Mal. Which means we’re deserters if we say no. We don't have a choice here, we are going to end up in that thing. Besides, we have Igorina near. Even if I do die she can get me back."

"And they can just sweep me up and spill a bit of blood, doesn’t mean I have to  _like_ it."

"We're soldiers, it doesn't matter what we like or not." Polly looked back at the huge metal man. "Although I'm surprised it isn't considered an abomination unto Nuggan. Mind-connecting? Sounds dodgy to me."

"Mm. Well, it can stamp enemies of The Faith into tiny bloody bits so I suppose Nuggan can turn a blind eye."

Polly sighed. "Well, as long as no one suddenly starts screeching _witchcraft_ and tries to set us on fire. Again."

"I _did_ apologise for that, didn't I?" Mal said, a little reproachfully. "And to be honest, I'm actually quite looking forward to be in your head, Sarge." She caught Polly's eye and winked.

Polly rolled her eyes. “Keep it professional, corporal. Come on, let's make the mother country proud. Or at least vaguely appreciative."

They marched back.

***

Polly stared warily at the helmets. They were sparking with octarine fire and fizzing. It didn’t look very safe.

"So we just put these on?"

"Apparently so," Mal said dubiously. “And then they flip the switch and we…" She interlaced her fingers. “Melt. Or something like it."

"The things I do for the army…" Polly sighed. She put the helmet on. It made her neck itch and she had a growing suspicion her hair would be standing up. She glanced aside. Even Mal’s natural vampiric style wasn’t up to the challenge of the clunky helmets.

Mal met her eye and nodded. “Alright," Polly said. “Flip the switch."

***

_the first taste of blood in her mouth, ripe and heavy and like nothing else in the world -_

_her mother on her deathbed, praying fervently -_

_the shakes and fear and incessant craving -_

_seeing Paul leave for the army-_

_Polly’s face that night they caught Prince Heinrich, waving a cudgel with wide fiery eyes -_

_Mal, waiting for her in full uniform at the boat with a shy smile -_

_the intimate darkness of their shared tent -_

***

\- and they were back again. Polly blinked rapidly. Even now, she could feel Mal’s presence in the back of her head. She groaned.

"Poll? Are you alright?" Mal asked, worried.

“I’m going to have to start drinking coffee as well, now, won’t I?"

Mal laughed, obviously relieved. “Yes, probably. It’s not so bad once you get used to it."

"Move your leg, corporal."

"Yes Sarge."

The raised their leg simultaneously, and below the immense metal column rose and fell with a resounding  _bang_.


End file.
